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[i]Bloodletting 1.3.1[/i]

Moonlight skittered over Manhattan and behind it, the night followed. The smell of gutter water and mouldy newspapers infested the Lower Bronx and flooded the lower boroughs with its stench. Erlich could taste the rich coppery scent of livestock huddling together in the cold night air, fading and rich with succor. 

However, he wasn’t in the mood for that tonight. He was in need of another type of warmth, the kind that would have made his superiors sneer in disgust. It was only here, away from the prying eyes of the other clan members, that he could have a joint in peace. Erlich scoffed.  He parted open the lapel of his jacket and slid out a dainty little cigarette from a half bent cardboard box. It was a second later that he realised he was out of matches. 

A scabbed hand intruded in his vision, and with it, a matchbox. Uriah had decided to accompany him on his last day in the Bronx before he would take the MRT down south and hop a bus to Florida. They’d been on a day and night of bar-hopping, finding a good drink to share between the both of them. It’d been half an hour since they left their last bar and the buzz from the eight shots he took was beginning to wear off He would have stayed longer but Deacon, that asshole, decided to hold a meeting all of a sudden. 

 “ Thanks,” Erlich murmured, cracking the head of the match against the strip and raising the soft yellow flame to the cigar. He took a deep drag, blood rushing pleasantly in his forehead in a nicotine fueled haze.   Uriaih meanwhile watched, taking a solitary look towards the stars. They were both on top of a roof now, overseeing the warehouse that Deacon had called both of them to. 

“ So, I heard you got a new assignment. “ 

“ Mhm.” Erlich signed  “  Not a pleasant one.”  

“  So, where are you headed? Jean told me you were headed to Alaska.” 

“ Wrong. I’m headed down to Orleans. Frost wants me to make first contact with the southern clans. We’ve been letting them frolic around there too long.” 

“ Think they’ll recognise his authority?” 

“ They’d better.” Erlich narrowed his eyes. “ Otherwise, he’d be sending me for a suicide mission. That’d be pretty goddamn stupid of him to do that. Frost has been expanding his operations and right now, the only territory that he hasn’t got a hold of are those mongoloid southerners. They’re more laissez-faire with feeding and fucking with the livestock. I swear, if it wasn’t for the fact the hunters have us on the run, we would have exterminated them.”

He took a drag and breathed out in the cold wind. 

“ I was thinking…” He flicked the ash off his cigar and turned around. “.....I think you and I need a heart to heart about your habits. Especially…..” 

Erlich’s expression became one of shock as Uriah’s jaw was slack in shock and pain, pawing at the wriggling hand that was protruding out of his chest. Within its bright red grip was a stake with what remained of Uriah’s heart smeared all over the end. Rivulets of blood oozed out, dribbling all over his jacket.  Over Uriah’s  shoulder were a pair of glimmering red shades that twinkled like jewels in a mine shaft.

The dhampir. 

“  You son of a bitch- “  Erlich hissed, pulling out his Colt revolver, cocking the hammer and aiming the barrel towards the dhampir’s heart - 

Then, his hand disappeared.

And before he could scream, his head came next. 

[hr] 

[i]Damn, he hasn’t missed a step, hasn’t he?[/i]

It only took two blinks and the bloodsucker was already headless and one handed. It was still standing, arm pointed towards Blade, before Stick kicked it over. There was a long winded whimper that rattled from the bloodsucker his hand was currently punctured through. Eric gripped the stake tight before pulling it out in one swift stroke. The bloodsucker then flopped onto the ground, the contents of his chest vacated by the large hole he’d put through his heart. 

“ You could have been more quiet.” Stick commented as he hobbled over towards Eric, even though the dhampir knew that he could run a block in 30 seconds. Guess every assassin had to keep up appearances. 

“  You could have been less messy.” Eric fired back, stepping over the vampire’s shriveled corpse.  He looked over towards the warehouse. “ So, this is the place? “

“ It’s the place.” Stick pointed towards the entrance, a dark gaping maw peeled out of corrugated iron. “The amount of dark chi this place was giving off was like Chernobyl.”  

“ Right….”  Eric drawled sarcastically while ripping out the stake from the vampire’s torso. “ Sure you haven’t been doing any drugs while you were meditating- OW!” 

Eric rubbed the back of his head, red hot from the slap Stick had given him with his cane. Stick stowed it away, grumbling under his breath before sheathing his katana with a click.

“ C’mon, kid. Those immortal vampire ninjas aren’t going to kill themselves.” 

“ Do I count as one of those?” 

“ You can if you don’t stop yapping off at me.”